


How Not to Impress Your Wife

by flowersheep



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 16:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: There are days when Astrid has nothing but the highest respect for how her husband handles his duties as chief.This is not one of those days.





	How Not to Impress Your Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Hiccup's beard is something I've spent a lot of time thinking about since the release of the trailer. It's majestic, really. Dignified. Wise. Misleading. I love it.
> 
> Edited to account for information learned after watching the third movie.

Astrid’s level of impressed with her husband varied on a daily basis. Sometimes even an hourly basis. For instance, there were days- like that time she’d come home to find Hiccup making a flight suit for their unborn child- that Astrid genuinely questioned what went through his mind. And then there were days like this. Days where the council was on its fourth straight day of arguing about the latest inane subject- Thawfest decorations, in this case. Days like this were the ones where Astrid was honestly in awe of her husband, where her level of impressed was at its highest. If it had been up to her, she would’ve taken her axe to Hoark’s face the minute the words, “So have we come to a decision about Thawfest decorations?” left his mouth. Unfortunately, it was not up to her. Hiccup, who had far more patience than anyone in this tribe really deserved, had said, “Apparently not,” then sighed in regret and sat back in his chair as the arguing resumed. Astrid had no idea why everyone was so riled up about Thawfest decorations and at this point she didn’t care. The only reason she was still sitting in her chair was because now that Nuffink was being weaned this was her best excuse to get a break from her kids, something which her mother had raised mildly judgmental eyebrows at her for. But Astrid refused to feel guilty. Valka loved any opportunity to spend time with her grandchildren and always enthusiastically volunteered to watch them during council meetings. And selfish reasons aside, Astrid had pointed out to her mother that small children and council meetings did not mix. 

Sighing through her nose, Astrid spared a moment to observe her husband. Five minutes into the arguing Hiccup had closed his eyes and started stroking his beard and hadn’t moved since. Astrid loved the beard. It had first been grown in the days after Zephyr had been born, when the responsibilities of being a new parent on top of all his responsibilities as chief had meant that shaving had been no where on Hiccup’s list of priorities. Up until that point Astrid had only ever seen him with stubble, usually on extended exploration missions, and the sight of the full beard had been strange. But it had grown on her, to the point that when Hiccup finally looked in a mirror and went, “Good Thor I should shave,” Astrid had suggested he just trim it instead. The beard had stayed ever since. It made him look wise and dignified, which always made Astrid laugh. If there were two words that she could pick to describe her husband ‘wise’ and ‘dignified’ would not even be on the list. She would admit that he had come a long ways from the days where he’d done things like make a prototype flight suit and test it by jumping off a cliff ( _repeatedly_ , despite initial severe life threatening failures). But he was still Hiccup. Dumb, impulsive decisions were a part of who he was and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Mostly. A little more self preservation wouldn’t hurt him.

“That’s ridiculous!” Gunner roared. “Those colors don’t even go together!”

“Just because you’re a stupid colorblind pile of yak dung doesn’t mean I’m wrong!” Phlegma roared back.

“Thor give me strength,” Astrid muttered. She looked at Hiccup again, amazed that he was so calm and serene when right in front of him there were Vikings making death threats at each other over which shade of blue best complimented gold. Fifteen minutes had gone by since he’d started the beard stroking and there he still sat, composed and thoughtful. It was impressive.

“ _Balloons_?” Gunner howled. “ _Balloons_ at Thawfest? No! No, that is where I draw the line!”

“What’s wrong with balloons?” Hoark demanded. “They’re fun and festive!”

“Oh that is it!” Gunner pulled out a mace. Hoark went for his axe. And still Hiccup sat and stroked his beard, unconcerned.

“Not that I don’t enjoy a good fight,” Phlegma spoke up, “but before we make a mess in the Great Hall that someone will have to clean up later, maybe we should see what the chief has to say.” There were murmurs of agreement around the table. Gunner and Hoark slowly lowered their weapons. All attention turned to the head of the table.

“Well, what do you think, Chief?” Sven asked. Several seconds of anticipatory silence passed in which Hiccup didn’t so much as twitch. “Chief?” Astrid frowned.

“Babe,” she said. No response. “Hiccup.” Still nothing. A suspicion started to enter Astrid’s mind and as it did her level of impressed with her husband for the day dropped significantly.

“Chief, are you okay?” Phlegma asked. All around the table the council were exchanging uncertain looks. Astrid let the silence stretch for a bit longer, enjoying the baffled and concerned looks directed at her husband where he still sat stroking his beard.

Then she leaned over, said, “Hiccup!” loud and sharp, and punched his arm. Hiccup startled, banging his knee hard against the table.

“Yes, what?” he said, blinking and looking at Astrid. Astrid tilted her head meaningfully and Hiccup looked at the rest of the table with a frown, apparently confused to find himself sitting in council.

“Aren’t you gonna answer their question?” Astrid asked innocently. “Unless, of course, you weren’t paying attention. You have been paying attention, haven’t you?”

His uncomfortable silence was answer enough. “No,” Hiccup admitted, staring unashamedly at the council. “No, I have not been paying attention. I was, uh, thinking about something else.” He cleared his throat. “What was the question?”

“We wanted your opinion on balloons, Chief,” Sven said. He looked stunned, like he couldn’t conceive of anything being more important than a four day discussion about how to decorate the village. The rest of the council wore similar expressions.

Hiccup rubbed his temples. “So this is still about Thawfest decorations.”

“Aye, Chief.”

“Right.” Hiccup nodded absently to himself a few times. “Okay.” Then he got up, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness. “I give up. I’m done.”

“Done?” Sven repeated.

“If you need me for anything that isn’t related to Thawfest decorations I’ll be at the forge.” And then Hiccup walked out of the Great Hall.

As the council began to mutter to themselves in confusion, Astrid decided that if Hiccup wasn’t going to stick around then neither was she. Her chair scraped more loudly against the floor than she’d intended and everyone turned to watch as she inclined her head in the barest amount of respect to the council before following her husband, catching up to him just outside where he’d stopped to rub his knee.

“Yeah that looked like it hurt,” Astrid said. Hiccup shot her a glare as he straightened.

“I can’t decide what hurts more,” he said. “My knee or my shoulder.”

“That’s just part of getting older, babe.”

“Okay, first of all, you’re actually older than me-”

“Only by a few months!”

“-so don’t try and give me that old age yak dung. And second, age has absolutely nothing to do with being punched by your wife.”

Astrid shrugged. “I was just trying to help.” At Hiccup’s disbelieving scoff she added, “Hey, I wouldn’t’ve had to punch you if you hadn’t been falling asleep in the middle of council.”

“I wasn’t falling asleep,” Hiccup corrected, starting towards the forge. Astrid instinctively fell into step with him. “I have never fallen asleep at council. Unlike some people I know.”

“I had a perfectly valid excuse called being pregnant,” Astrid defended. “Your daughter was a terror in the womb.” Her first pregnancy had been marked by far too many nights spent tossing and turning while tiny limbs assailed her internal organs. Council had not been the only place she had told herself she would only close her eyes for a moment and ended up falling asleep.

“I’m pretty sure you can thank Hofferson genes for that,” Hiccup said.

Astrid snorted. “Not from what your mother has told me about when she was pregnant with you.”

“I’m just saying, violence is way more your thing than mine.”

Astrid made a noncommittal sound and decided to change the subject. “What were you thinking about anyway?” Something infinitely more interesting than the bloodbath that had almost taken place on the table, apparently.

Hiccup sighed, wistful. “I was thinking about sailing to a remote island somewhere and sleeping for a week.”

“Technically speaking, this is a remote island,” Astrid pointed out.

“Yeah, a remote island full of people who spend four whole days arguing about color schemes and banners and balloons and who barge into my home at ungodly hours of the morning.” That was in direct reference to last week when Mrs Ack had woken them at the crack of dawn because one of her chickens was missing. Hiccup, who had spent half the night up with their fussy son, had looked like he wanted to die when he sat up and saw Mrs. Ack actually standing at the foot of their bed, tearfully pleading for help finding her lost chicken. Astrid was positive the only reason Hiccup had given in and gone to look for the chicken was because he’d been too tired to think straight and Mrs. Ack’s slowly increasing volume risked waking the children. The chicken, it turned out, hadn’t even been missing, just hiding in the back of the chicken coup where it was hard to spot. To her credit, Mrs. Ack had been extremely apologetic about charging into their home uninvited because she’d glanced in her chicken coup, counted three chickens instead of four, and lost all reason. Unfortunately, her apology hadn’t gone any better than the event it was meant for. She’d made several delicious apology pies that Zephyr had gorged herself on to the point of sickness when left unsupervised. Astrid would never forget coming home to be greeted by her daughter throwing up on her boots. And she was definitely never forgetting that when Gustav said, “I won’t let your kids out of my sight!” what he really meant was, “I will leave them completely alone and unsupervised while I try to flirt with a girl who has no interest in me.” Next time she had to go unexpectedly break up a fight in the market she was just going to take the kids with her. Call it a learning experience. It was never too early to learn conflict resolution skills. With an axe.

“Fair point,” Astrid conceded. “I do like this sailing idea though.” She hooked her arm through Hiccup’s. “Would you be open to company on this trip to a remote, uninhabited island?” Hiccup smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead, beard scratching pleasantly against her skin.

“Always.”


End file.
